They say making friends as an adult is hard. Sure, maybe. But you know what really hits different? Losing a friend you thought would be around forever. Like, godparent-to-your-kids, toast-at-your-funeral, help-you-hide-a-body level of friend.
I lost that kind of friend at the end of 2024—but the truth is, I’d been losing him all year.
Let’s call him my guy.
We’d been close for over a decade. He was the best man at my wedding. No hesitation, no debate. He literally helped set the stage for me meeting Kristina. We were roommates—seven years or more. Various apartments, multiple cities. From broke college boys to broke young professionals. Fraternity brothers. And for those of you in Black Greek life, you know what it means when I say: he was my LINK. We were tied at the elbow for six weeks straight. People still say we were the closest line to ever come out of the Xi Delta Chapter of Phi Beta Sigma Fraternity, Inc.
(Boomer Sooner, by the way.)
He was there when I was in and out of the hospital for sickle cell crises. There’s literally a photo of him feeding me soup during one of my worst stays. (My wife still pulls it out when she wants to laugh.) I was there through his breakups, there when he met the one, there when he proposed. I helped set up, helped clean up, took pictures. We even worked together for a year at a major corporate gig.
So yeah, my guy wasn’t just a friend. He was my BROTHER.
Which is why, when he got engaged, I gave him space. I didn’t want to be that friend. I stepped back a bit in 2024. I had two toddlers at home, I was stepping into major leadership roles, and I figured he needed the breathing room because being newly engaged and planning a wedding is not easy. But I also noticed something…
I was always the one reaching out. Pulling up. Sending the “you alive?” texts. I didn’t mind it. That was just our rhythm. In 2023, I had made it a priority to check in. I’d call on Saturdays and say, “I’m coming over.” And we’d just sit there. Netflix. No plans. Just chilling. (did I mention I have two kids?) I called just to check on him. I went out of my way to be present because I valued that friendship. And in many ways, our lives were on similar paths. He was about to get married, he had bought a house, got a promotion, etc… All roads I had been on. I was excited for him. For real.
He lives five minutes away. Five. This is great. Our friendship will get even stronger.
But in 2024? I stopped calling. I thought maybe he’d notice. And to be fair, I knew how our friendship worked—I was the initiator. So maybe it’s not fair for me to suddenly change the rules. But I did. Did I think he would reach out? No. But maybe after things settled down, I can pick it back up. (that was my thought)
As the year went on, I still hadn’t heard a thing about the wedding, which he had said would be in late 2024. No date. No details. No “hey man, would love for you to be there.” Not even a courtesy text.
And I found out about the official wedding date—get this—from another line brother.
Not him.
Eventually, I did get an invitation… via text. Casual. Real “if you can make it, cool” energy. I debated going. But I told my wife, “Let’s RSVP. I want to support him. He’s still my guy.”
Then came the plot twist: at an epic OU vs. Alabama game night in Norman (if you know, you know), I learned that he had chosen one of the three brothers on our line to be in the wedding. Just one. No heads-up. No explanation. Just… radio silence.
Would I have been cool if he said, “I only have space for one brother”? Yeah. Would it have stung? For sure. But I would’ve respected the honesty. After all, I AM RICH HONESTY! LOL! Okay, back to the story.
And then came the kicker: he asked me via text to take engagement photos. He didn’t acknowledge anything and acted like everything was cool. But I wasn’t tripping, because it was something I’d promised to do for free over a year ago. That’s what I do for my people. Well, he canceled an hour before. Yes, he cancelled a free photoshoot. After we’d already lined up a babysitter. Left me and my wife with an open afternoon and an empty calendar. No explanation.
Still, I let that go.
I was still planning to show up. Ready to smile, clap, and raise a glass.
But then—the day before the wedding—I found out about the rehearsal dinner. Of course the one brother in the wedding was invited. Maybe even hosting. The rest of us? Ghosted! No invite. No “hey, swing by for a quick drink.” No “come celebrate one last night as a single man.”
And that was the moment I realized it was over. Maybe I was naive the whole time. It was over for real.
Not being in the wedding? I could get past that. Trust me, after planning a wedding, the last thing I desire is to be in many others.
Being left out of every pre-wedding moment? Tough, but survivable.
But not even getting the chance to dap you up one last time before you said “I do”? After everything? Damn!
That was the final straw for me.
If you’re wondering… I didn’t go to the wedding. I made the executive decision the night before. And honestly? I don’t regret it.
Am I hurt? Absolutely. Because real, deep friendships don’t come easy to me. I know a lot of people. And a lot of people know me. High-level friendships. But the “come sit on my couch and say nothing” kind of friends? That list has never had more than three names.
But I’m good. I take my Ls. And I keep moving. Because my wins? They hit harder. The journey always hits harder when there are obstacles along the way. And I’ve got people in my life who show up. Who check in. Who don’t need a decade of memories to know my value.
This is also not a last ditch effort to save the friendship. I’ve moved on. And putting pen to paper is my release. Matter of fact, he’s blocked. Because ain’t no petty like a brother who thrives on petty!
Look, I’ve got enough self-awareness to know there are two sides to every story. I’m sure he has his own version—and honestly, I played a part in how things fell apart. I own that. But here’s what he can’t defend, and what he’ll have to live with: on one of the biggest days of his life—his wedding—he chose to leave out two brothers he once had a deep bond with. And not just leave us out, but say nothing. No heads-up. No conversation. No explanation. Just silence. And to me, that will always be wild.
So in the words of Drake:
“Takin' off the sneakers 'cause I got tired of tyin' 'em up
That one day you wake up and tell 'em "enough is enough"
That's how you gon' find out you not Kobe Bryant to us
Man, you not Kobe Bryant to us, at all.”
Happy birthday, bro. Even after six months of silence, I still remembered. My heart was heavy today, so I had to put pen to paper. Because two years ago, we would probably be taking a shot on a Wednesday night, and I would be teasing you about how you should have studied Mixology… because like everything else, you know TOO MANY DAMN FACTS about alcohol.
Not sure you can say the same.
These are the stories about my brother..